


Movers and Shakers

by Townycod13



Category: South Park
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Soul Mate AU, convoluted, dumb teenagers, gift for the amazing panaceaa!, maybe other pairings XD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-07
Updated: 2018-06-15
Packaged: 2019-04-19 19:45:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,144
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14244438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Townycod13/pseuds/Townycod13
Summary: The sensation above ones heart is symbolic of a new and wonderful thing. From puberty until adulthood is the age range that people can expect for the symbol of love, trust, and a future harmonious relationship to bloom on their chest. Revealing the identity of the one that would complete the other and open up a whole new world of love and understanding that only a soul mate can truly offer.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [panaceaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/panaceaa/gifts).



> THANK YOU FOR BEING SO AMAZING ALL THE TIME PANACEAA<3<3 here's the soul mate au that no one wants

Oftentimes there are those that things happen to.

And those that happen to the rest of the world.

It's hard to say which, if either, is better. It is on occasion a mere matter of preference. Should a single individual influence or be influenced?

The pre-ordained, pre-arranged, and pre-determined aspects of the world should have thought twice before they crept up the side of a small mountain town in Colorado.

Destiny was far to used to dancing to it’s own whims while fate twirls a spell of intrigue and finality into a neat little bow. Neither of them were particularly prepared for Eric Cartman.

To be fair, no one can truly be prepared for the Being that goes by that name. It’s simply an ill-conceived endeavor to try.

“Eric, sweetie, I don’t know why you’re so upset. That mark is supposed to guide you to your soul mate. It’s a good thing.”

“ _ Mooom _ , you don’t understand. It  _ can’t _ be this mark. There has to have been a mistake.” Something dangerous twinkled in the disruptive shade of blue of his stolen eyes, “Someone is going to pay for this.”

Lianne, despite her best intentions, was not at all skilled in reading her son. She was adept enough to know to smile dismissively and move on to her own to-do list. There was no point in continuing to engage after that scheming gleam lit up Eric’s face.

“That’s nice, sweetie.”

\--

There are those that are moved by reality and there are those that move reality but above both of those entities the whims of reality itself sets its own inescapable truths.

As though god itself were endorsing arranged marriage, the concept of a soul mate did indeed exist. Someone that could utterly complete another person. A literal match made in heaven.

Kenny didn’t give the concept much time in his life though. He had Bigger things to deal with as it turned out. When his own symbol had first made it’s impression above his heart, he hadn’t even noticed it’s presence for quite some time.

It had something to do with experiencing a quite literal out of body experience at the time but perhaps it was the predetermination of fate that he not notice regardless.

He was most definitively in the category of humans that fate happened to.

“ _ Mysterion _ ! What are you doing here?!”

That didn’t mean he wouldn’t have fun within the confines of his own little destiny.

“Shoot him down!”

“He’s too quick!”

“What do I pay you goons for?!”

It was cartoonish, laughable even, the appearance of his cape and iconic green questioner had grown adults using words like goons. Hardened criminals that morphed into a foolish bunch of buffoons.

Kenny figured they were like him. The sort that bent to the role assigned to them rather than disrupting the system. Those were the rules, when a caped crusader swung in they were supposed to become predictable and gullible.

**Wham** ! With a well placed punch.  **BAM!** With an impressive display of strength. And  **SWOOSH** with adept fingers and a strong rope.

As simple as all that the gang of drug-trading crooks were prepared like a gift for the arriving police officer, Mysterions signature question mark left on the scene as the only sign he had been there.

Kenny had figured it out a long time ago. There was no fighting fate and there was no changing it. He could however play along with its strange whims to achieve his own ends.

The only trouble was he rarely made it off without a scratch and this particular evening had left a gash across his chest where one of the hardened crooks who would soon be on his way to the big house could see his mark clear as day.

Supposedly soul mate markings were like fingerprints, no two were exactly the same, though the same as fingerprints there was little to no research done to prove the claim.

It should be a mark only meaningful to the two involved though and that much was true.

Kenny might not have spent much thought on his soul mate but the incriminating mark on his chest was an identifying downfall.

\--

There are those that give up before the end and those that fight even when defeat is inevitable.

When met with an obstacle an individual can choose to push until they have completed their determined task or to hang up their hat and call it a day. How quickly one quits is a determining factor that can be submitted for judgment of their character. Are they the sort to avoid the first bump, fight until it seems hopeless, or push past even the expanse of hopelessness that would crush the heart of a lesser person?

It would be difficult to list a force on this entire planet with the strength to stop Kyle Broflovski from moving forward when he decided on a course of action. Being referred to as a force of nature was less of a compliment of character and more of an inherited family trait that was commonly acknowledged and accepted.

The Broflovski name held just a bit of baggage with consideration to the destruction left in their wake.

Kyle simply lived up to his family’s name.

“I’m just saying that soul mates are bullshit. There’s no purpose in it and the entire thing is rigged up to make people feel like shit.”

Kyle also hadn’t had his mark appear yet. To his knowledge he was the only person in his whole grade that had yet to manifest a mark,

“So you’ve said.” David had heard most of this more than once now. If it showed in his face he couldn’t truthfully be blamed.

“And for what purpose? It’s not like there’s any guarantee you’ll be happy with whoever your soul mate is! Who even decides the match ups?”

“God?” David guessed, only half listening.

“Well, I don’t think he has any business making my relationship decisions for me! Or anyone for that matter!”

Kyle’s crush, a sweet and shy girl named Rebecca, had recently developed her own symbol and it held absolutely no resemblance to any of the characteristics that made up the smitten boy.

“Well, there’s no rule that says you have to date your soul mate.” David offered.

“ _ Exactly _ ! Everyone acts like it’s some kind of law that determines who you have to date or love and I just don’t get it!”

David was a good friend so he kept his mouth carefully shut about their conversation only a month prior, the one where Kyle had day-dreamed about the marks that were  _ sure _ to appear on himself and Rebecca because their romance just  _ had _ to be written in the stars.

Kyle could be hypocritical at times. He was still young, that was only fair.

The trouble was that given his penchant for fighting until his very last breath with all of his considerable strength it could be a bit dangerous when the matter at hand wasn’t strictly all that important.

It was a moment in time where Fate should have known to quake in its metaphorical boots. Destiny should have caught a cab for Denver and left the small mountain town in its entirety.

“I  _ refuse _ to accept this stupid predetermined bullshit!”

\--

If one were to dedicate time and energy towards categorizing humans as if they were products stocked on shelves and up for sale then people could be divided into those that move and those that are moved.

Some people tend to influence the spaces around them, intentionally or otherwise, and some people never really make waves.

Stan Marsh didn’t want to make waves. He often would make an active effort to avoid doing so. He’d experienced, a few times here and there, the change that can be created by the sheer force of will to adjust the world around him.

It was terrifying how proficient he was at it. How high the typhoons of change he could create were. He wanted nothing to do with it.

“Why don’t you say anything?”

There were a lot of things he could say. A lot of ways he could argue or solutions he could offer.

“…so you just don’t care anymore?”

He couldn’t voice any of them. His voice was paralyzed with the knowledge it was within his strength to change the world and yet, would do nothing to change the mind of one breath-taking girl.

“It’s over, Stan.”

She had always had his heart and soul in the palm of her delicate but fierce grip. From the first moment he’d seen her smile. From the first time he’d encountered her inquisitive nature.

She was who he had always wanted to spend forever with.

And if categorizing humans was his hobby he would be able to say with confidence that she was the sort things happened to.

She would fight tooth and nail to affect change, real change, valuable change, to shake the world with her passion and strength and it  _ should _ work.

But the world never budged for and that was the horrifying irony of their relationship. He never wanted to change the world and all she wanted to do was just that. Yet their skillsets divided them into these separate aisles at the marketplace of existence.

That didn’t mean she allowed the world to rock her.

He knew his words could change the world but for the girl that took on the world head on, losing time and again only to rise again with renewed indomitable strength?

He wouldn’t dare to even try, much less dream of success.

They’d tried. They really had.

They’d tried too hard or too little and for too long.

It was inevitable.

“Goodbye, Wendy.”

The offending symbol over his heart tore the rift between them into a gorge.

“Goodbye, Stan.”

\--

The thing about soul mate marks is they are often abstract in the extreme, only holding value to the two involved. The range of potential symbols of a bond were endless.

There were however some that were blatant to the extent of scandal.

Kyle Broflovski screamed. The sound rang loud and far enough for his neighbors across the train tracks to pause their arguments in order to carefully listen to the resounding echo.

It was a scandalized, offended, perplexed, horrified, hateful, wounding, and ugly sound. Parts of it echoed of utter despair and loathing. Some called a tune of animalistic confusion. A full minute of the sound was dedicated solely towards insanity driven hatred.

The sound shook the entire neighborhood at the all too early hours of the morning but it didn’t cause the actual swastika on his chest to disperse.

\--

“ _ Where— _ “

The halls shook under the boom of his voice. Younger students dove for cover. Some of the braver souls only cowered.

“ _ —is—“ _

Those that knew him better ignored their legs pleas for escape as the immune system determined that the enraged redhead was an immediate threat to the continued existence of the human race.

“ _ —CARTMAN?! _ ”

It was Butters, poor soul but braver than he was truly given credit for, that raised his hand shyly to answer the crazed boy, “Oh gee, Kyle, I don’t know what to tell you, Eric told me he wasn’t coming to school today. I don’t know if he’s at home though, I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful…”

Stan, who knew his beloved friend like he knew his own face, was well aware that there was nothing that could prepare him for the sound to come. It would shake the ground and potentially level the school with its ferocity. He still made the effort though and covered his ears barely in time. Kenny, from his nearby position, was less lucky and suffered probable permanent damage to his hearing.

“ _ THAT SON OF BITCH IS BEHIND THIS! I’M GOING TO KILL HIM. _ ”

No one doubted that Broflovski would keep his word.

\--

Eric Cartman was on a mission and to deter him would to risk life and limb.

Kenny risked life and limb by merely breathing though so he figured he was safe.

Well, aside from whenever Cartman was looking for organ donations. He wasn't letting that one go anytime soon.

"You know that Kyle is out to kill you right now, right?" he began, taking a seat next to the diabolical youth, "The fuck did you even do this time?"

There was a certain degree of tension in Cartman's shoulders, whatever he was on the roof fussing with was clearly taking on the entirety of his attention, "None of your business, poor boy."

Kenny weighed the pros and cons of just leaving Cartman and Kyle to whatever their current feud was. It was tempting, he could hit up a movie with Stan and Butters. Maybe get some extra hours at the City Wok.

It was very tempting and normally he would have called it a day right then and there. He'd done his duty to 'help' and honestly, getting between Cartman and Kyle had led him to some pretty gruesome deaths in the past.

That was until he got a look at what exactly had Cartman's rapt attention.

"Holy fuck dude, is that a rifle?!"

Identical steely eyes met his and Kenny had the disturbing feeling of looking into a mirror. They were attached to a pudgy face of a small minded bigot though so he shook the feeling away.

"Mind your own business,  _ Kenny _ , or you might find out exactly what this is."

It was that dangerously low lilt of voice that always accompanied Cartman at his absolute worst. There was a squished feeling inside of Kenny as he accepted that he wouldn't be able to stay out of this one, even if he tried to, Cartman's bullshit had a way of drawing in even, or perhaps especially, the unwilling.

More importantly than that it could be actually dangerous to Kyle. Kenny trusted him to be able to kick Cartman's ass any normal day, but psycho calm Cartman wasn't a person that anyone should fuck with.

Cartman was still trying to stare him down. The way those fingers itched uncomfortably also spoke of a truth to the words. Cartman would kill him without hesitation over pretty much anything.

Kenny raised his hands in defeat, "Woah, way to escalate dude. I was just asking."

Some tension left but that special little curl in Cartman's lips didn't spell out anything good. What the fuck had Cartman behaving like this?

What pissed Kyle off so much for that matter?

It was always something dumb with those two.

"Don't." and he returned to his task.

"Roger."

Great. Now he had to explain to Kyle the difference between normal Cartman plotting murder and Cartman at full homicidal intent.

He decided a cape might help.

\--

"...is it something wrong with me?"

Butters placed a comforting hand on the poor boy's shoulder. It was just a touch exasperating to be doing this all dance again. Stan was an awfully good guy but he could just be a bit of a negative nancy at times.

Maybe Butters just didn't care for the subject matter.

"Of course there is." Stan startled up, wide blue eyes boring into Butters own with hurt shock, he continued "There's somethin' wrong with all of us. We're people, none of us are perfect, ya know? Relationships are all about communicatin' and understanding each other and golly, both you and Wendy are just fantastic people and all but..."

"We suck at talking shit out?" Stan finished, the ghost of a smile edging onto his face.

That was a better expression, Butters decided, he just had such a hard time when Stan went attacking himself like this. His pal Stan was an alright dude and it was just not right that the boy would attack his friend like that.

"A little bit, yeah." Butters smiled, relieved that Stan understood.

Stan let out a laughing sigh, "I just... I always wanted us to get better at it? I figured with time we could do anything. I'd wait forever for her." his voice broke a bit, "She's amazing, you know? She never yields and she just  _ cares _ so much about everything. It's like," his smile was wistful, longing, Butters looked away, "She's a superhero? When we were kids I used to ask myself 'what would Brian Boitano do?' because we always thought he could do anything but..."

Butters couldn't describe the way his stomach was flopping around inside him but he didn't like it one bit.

"...at some point I started asking myself 'what would Wendy do?' because she's so impossibly unstoppable."

"Sounds like ya really love her, huh?"

"More than anyone."

Something inside of Butters screamed.

_ I'm pretty darn unstoppable myself. _

_ You should see what I'm capable of. No one sees what I'm capable of. _

_ Why go for some boring old superhero when there's a super villain right here?! _

He choked on the words and found himself actually choking in reality.

"Jesus, Butters! Are you okay dude?"

"Nothing--" Butters gasped for breath, "--just choked on my own breath is all."

And there was that tinkling laugh that was interrupted with Stan's ugly little snorts and Butters smiled because when was the last time he'd heard this laugh? "Dude, how do you even  _ do _ that?"

Butters shrugged helplessly. Subconsciously his hand rested on his chest over the mark that represented his future. The one that determined his future partner and the person he would love more than anyone else.

There was no point in feelin' so much over good ol' Stan. No point at all.

The heart inside still throbbed rebelliously.

\--

There's an optional database to register ones soul mate marks when they appear. In hopes that it will bring together those that wouldn't otherwise find each other it has countless different marks of individuals from all over.

It is also conveniently divided up by state, city, and even neighborhoods in some cases. People ought to be more careful about the kind of information that they leave on the internet for perusal of just about anyone.

People are ultimately foolish though and the promise of true love and destiny arranging a forever love is too great for most.

"Is that it?"

He squinted his eyes critically at the mark of a flower crown delicately ingrained on the chest of some random high schooler.

"No, his was more like one of those weird shitty flower necklaces they wear on vacation? You know, like in Hawaii or some shit."

The goon strained to remember further detail, the array of flower themed soul mate symbols on the screen starting to give him a headache. His partner wasn't doing any better.

There was a chance that Mysterion had been smart and hadn't registered his mark at all. Still, if there was even a chance that they could unmask the menace and put a stop to his vigilante nonsense once and for all they had to take it.

"It had something metallic next to it I think? Like tin foil or something?"

"Like this one?"

There are specific moments in time when the world just sings. Internally one can hear an entire choir singing praises while the world just shines a bit brighter and an exhale of joy can just about fill the entire world with a warmth that lightens ones whole body.

This was definitely one of those moments.

"Got you, Mysterion." there was so much joy and promise to the voice. After all, if the world forced them to dance to a predetermined script of heroes and villains it was always a given that unmasking the hero was a sure way to destroy them.

The one intelligent thing the database did to protect the privacy of it's users was not providing names. Rather if you felt like the mark might connect with ones own, there was an email that could be used to contact other users. It wouldn't allow them to instantly get their hands on the boy but they would be able to track him down, slowly.

"....Mysterion's email address is suckmyballs@hotmail.com?"

\--

Planning was very important in a proper murder. Murdering someone like Kenny was almost pathetically easy, comparing it to shooting fish in a barrel would be insulting to the fish. Killing Kenny was as easy as setting a timer and getting a lawn chair, it was sure to happen one way or another.

Kyle Broflovski on the other hand had proven to be historically difficult to kill. Sure, once or twice it looked inevitable, but the sneaky little creature always wiggled his way out one way or another.

Eric made a note to take back his kidney from Kyle's still warm corpse after the deed was done. It was the principle of the thing. He'd smash the thing over Stan's stupid face too, teach the bastard to trick him.

First he had to succeed in the task at hand.

His plan had  _ so many layers _ . It was  _ foolproof _ .

Apparently it wasn't Kyle-proof.

Godfuckingdamnit.

The shot rang across the yard and it should have brained the red head on his way out of the school seamlessly but fate had other ideas.

"Oh, a penny." Kyle's voice barely even made it's way up to Cartman's perch but he heard it nonetheless. Like a mocking echo of dashed hopes.

Broflovski leaned down at  _ just _ the right timing and the shot landed harmlessly into some grass, probably braining some stupid worm or bunny.

"Shit." Eric cursed, re-aiming.

This was fine though. He'd planned for the potential of plan A failing.

Right on cue, a band of banana suit wearing hired assassins turned a corner for the school. He could see Kyle tense at the sight of them, immobilized from disgust and horror. Eric re-adjusted his aim.

The City Wok assassins would be completely useless at actually completing the task but they were cheap as fuck and a worthy distraction.

He fired his second shot but someone reached Kyle's horrified form first. In one obnoxiously sweeping motion a dark purple cape had gathered Kyle into it's arms and begun to sprint away from the scene.

" _ Fucking Mysterion?! _ " Eric hated today. He really hated today.

The joke was on them though. Eric had anticipated that Kyle might run away from the banana's and they were headed straight for his next trap--

"ARE YOU FOR REAL?!"

He cursed, firing his weapon a bit more freely, uncaring that it could reveal his position.

The duo had completely managed to dodge his spike pit, as though the ridiculous vigilante wannabe knew it was there ahead of time.

"Hey, who's up there?!" a voice called from below, "Put down your weapon immediately! I'm calling the police!"

It was time to wrap up his weapon and resort to Plan F.

He hated Plan F.

"Stupid ginger fag... can't just die as easy as Kinny." Eric's face contorted at the thought, if Kyle died like Kenny there would be no getting rid of him for good. Perhaps it was for the best that Kyle wasn't an immortal undead creepy eldritch horror. God Kenny is a creepy motherfucker, Eric regretted not offing the guy earlier on principle.

\--

Being swept up in the arms of a hero is an experience, to say the least. Getting swept up in the arms of a hero that you spend a lot more time thinking about than anyone rightly should? Well, that was just asking for trouble.

" _ Mysterion _ ?!" Kyle gasped, thoughts of the horrifying banana army retreating in favor of clinging to the--damn why is he so muscular?!--chest of his savior, "What are you doing here?!"

"No time," Mysterion growled, carefully avoiding the path that would lead straight to Kyle's house. Kyle's pulse stuttered, if Mysterion wasn't taking him home where were they going? "Hold on, this is going to jolt."

Kyle didn't even have the presence of mind to ask before suddenly they both felt weightless. Without the consent of his brain his arms wrapped around the vigilante's neck.

Of course Mysterion would have a fucking grappling hook. Kyle decided it was utterly unfair how cool the guy was.

Why couldn't things have just worked out with Rebecca? She was a nice girl and he  _ really _ liked her. She made a lot more sense than some shadowy stranger.

The wind whipping around them and the adrenaline of the situation and the sounds of gunshots resounding in what was swiftly becoming the distance really oughtn't make him remember childish middle school fantasies of a certain superhero but Kyle felt a flush of embarrassment.

If anyone ever found out the number of times he'd envisioned getting rescued like a freaking damsel in distress Lois Lane bullshit by a guy that wears underwear on the outside of his tights, he would actually die of shame.

Even more embarrassing were the fantasies where he did the rescuing.

"Broflovski? Are you in there?"

Right, he was still in the guys arms. Oh, and he wanted Kyle's vice-grip to let go. Well. Kyle wanted to die in a ditch somewhere miles away from here, we can't all get what we want, Mysterion.

"Y-yeah. What the actual fuck happened back there?"

Anger, anger was much easier to channel than staring openly at a guys abs.

To his surprise Mysterion let out a low sound of agitation that sounded less like a super cool superhero and more like a child that doesn't want to take out the garbage.

The moment of weakness didn't last and Mysterion's intense icy eyes had him pinned, "I need to know why you're mad at Eric Cartman."

There were a lot of things that ran through Kyle's mind in that moment.

Memories of his horror and all consuming rage throughout the day, something about the adrenaline making him forget about it for the moment, an understanding of a certain overweight bigoted bastards character, and complete horror at the knowledge that despite whatever he might want in life (like, say, a hunky superhero with a chiseled jaw) he had a fucking  _ swastika tattooed on his fucking chest _ .

"THAT WAS FUCKING CARTMAN BACK THERE?!"

The rage won out.

"I WILL MURDER HIM."

He was already going to but the sentiment doubled.

"Kyle," Mysterion's voice was strained and almost fearful if Kyle didn't know better. Vigilante badasses like Mysterion weren't scared of hysterical highschoolers they barely knew, duh. "Kyle, I need you to calm down."

"I am  _ perfectly _ calm. I am going to  _ perfectly calmly rip out his spine, use to peel off his face, wrap it all up in his nut sack and feed it to him _ !"

He definitely wasn't imagining the grimace on Mysterion's face there.

"Look, please just explain to me what your feud is about  _ this time _ , okay? And then I'll take you home and put a stop to his idiocy."

"I DON'T NEED YOU TO FIGHT MY BATTLES!" anger was much easier than explaining the situation to his superhero crush.  _ Millions _ times easier.

Mysterion sighed, "Okay, I won't fight your battles." Kyle puffed his chest out, proud of the win, " _ But _ ," why was there always a 'but' in things? Kyle frowned, "I  _ do _ have to fight for other people and that scene back there very nearly had several unintended casualties. This isn't a joke, Kyle. Cartman is serious about killing you and I'm sure you understand how little he cares about the little people that might get in his way."

This conversation was not going the direction Kyle wanted it to. Stupid Mysterion.

"The more information I have the more I can protect people. Kyle, please tell me what's going on."

It was the please that sold it. Badass and breath-taking superhero mysterious vigilante asking him 'please'? Kyle had weaknesses, alright.

He really wanted to comply.

"It's..." there was a bit a trouble wording it, Kyle realized for such a simple issue there was no way to fully express to a stranger the full extent of absolute loathing, terror, and homicidal intent that was truly involved with the issue, "Kinda complicated, okay?"

Mysterion's face was miles of patience and absolute listening intent. By which it was very clear that was what the stiff expression was attempting and failing to be. "I have nothing but time." he said woodenly.

"I..." what could he say? How could he possibly admit aloud to something so awful? All he needed to do was kill off Cartman and then burn the mark away and then  _ no one on this earth had to know _ . He didn't want to tell anyone. Not Stan. Not Kenny. Certainly not his longtime crush.

The fact that Cartman was trying to kill him placed a certain weight on the knowledge too. It was now extremely unlikely that it was all a prank. Cartman was likely thinking along the same lines.

"...what do you think about soul mates?" he asked finally, taking a seat on the roof and looking anywhere but the caped crusader.

"Soul mates?" Mysterion sounded taken aback.

Kyle nodded, still unwilling to look up, in case Mysterion put it all together and knew the truth.

"They're cool, I guess?" Mysterion said, a bit awkward, "Truthfully I haven't thought about them much. Did Cartman do something to your soul mate?"

Technically, yes. Kyle had to hold his tongue to avoid spilling more information than he intended.

"Do you think it impossible to fight it? Like, you get the mark and now you're destined for someone and no matter what you do that's what's going to happen?"

He hoped not. The sheer nausea that swept over him at the thought was not welcome.

Mysterion sat down across from him and Kyle kept his eyes on his own hands.

"In my experience," Mysterion's voice was heavy, "Fighting destiny is like trying to stop a nuke with a flower. Nice thought but generally doesn't work out so well."

Kyle expected words like that to crush all hope left in him. Especially from someone like that. If someone like Mysterion couldn't fight fate, who was he to try?

He  _ expected _ that.

What he experienced was a burning that put all of his earlier piddly agitation to shame.

Kyle Broflovski was the sort that bashed through walls, not the sort to pause and examine them. No matter how hard he might try to spend a moment enjoying the view.

He raised his gaze to meet Mysterion's just in time to see the look of fear splash across those features.

_ Good _ , Kyle decided, triumphant and brimming with confidence,  _ you should be scared _ .

"I don't give a fuck how hard it is. There is no fucking way I am going to spend the rest of my life with Eric. Fucking. Cartman."

Whoops.

Mysterion's eyes widened to the size of saucers, " _ Your soulmate is Cartman _ !?"

Kyle had never before seen him truly break character but he didn't have the presence of mind to contemplate that further. He grit his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, glaring down at the shocked hero.

"No," Kyle's words were ice, "He is  _ not _ . Destiny, fate, or whatever shit god decides this crap does not control my life." his eyes flared, a deep feeling from his gut feeding into his own determination, "Fucking  _ no one _ decides how my life goes but  _ me _ ."

"Noted." Mysterion's voice sounded a bit winded but the response was satisfactory enough that Kyle felt this was a good point in time to storm away.

How exactly he was going to deal with the situation, aside from the obvious murder plan, would have to wait until his blood settled down and his frontal lobe kicked in again.

No one, fucking  _ no one _ , could force him to do anything. Least of all fall for Eric Cartman.

And  _ how dare _ Mysterion take destiny's side on this issue!

\--

Wendy made a point to be observant. In South Park it could be a bit challenging with consideration the number of insane activities occurring at any given time but she had a good eye for relevant information.

An easy example would be that Butters sitting alone on a park bench was irrelevant information. The suspicious van that had circled the block three times now was relevant.

All the same, Wendy and Wendy alone made the final decision as to what she considered important, even if in the grand scheme of things one of the options might be objectively more important.

"Hey, Leo. Are you okay?"

Butters looked up from his clenched hands and for the first time to Wendy's recollection looked at her with something that approached dislike.

She searched her mind for a point in time that she hadn't gotten along with the agreeable boy and drew a blank. There were instances but they were normally in the broader spectrum of boys vs girls, nothing particularly personal between them.

"I'm doing just fine, Wendy. You don't need to worry about me."

There was definitely a testy edge to his tone. Wendy debated walking away from the situation altogether.

In all likeliness it wasn't worth her time and she really ought to deal with the suspicious car instead.

On the other hand...

Wendy considered an old niggling suspicion she'd had.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to, but I'm going to sit next to you, okay? And if you feel like you wanna say anything I'm actually a pretty good listener."

Butters bit his lip and his gaze darted to the ground, "Really, Wendy, I'm alright."

It wasn't convincing to anyone's ears.

Neither of them said a word longer but when Butters started to silently sob, Wendy had tissues at the ready.

The car could wait. Friends were important.

\--

"I can't believe that Mysterion is just some high school brat!" He couldn't contain the glee in the knowledge, knocking around some snot-nosed idiot kid sounded much less terrifying than facing off against the invincible form of a superhero.

"Right," his partner snorted, "It's honestly embarrassing we haven't dealt with him sooner. Are you sure the address is around here?"

He frowned at the GPS app on his phone, requesting at another u-turn, "I think we might be passing the place by? Strange, I don't remember seeing any houses though. Just a junkyard and the old sodosopa."

"It's possible he gave a false address on his email account." his partner reasoned, "We were able to find out he's a student so we'll just ambush him at the school tomorrow. I'm tired of driving in circles and I swear that girl on the bench has been giving me the evil eye."

"Sounds like a plan to me."

\--

There was something oddly sobering about the entire situation.

Kenny lay in bed watching the stars through the cracks in his roof, the memorized constellation above his room that he didn't know the name for his only company.

He should be out protecting Kyle or stopping Cartman. Or protecting Cartman and stopping Kyle. Or some strange combination within.

He should be patrolling and finishing off the remnants of the drug ring that had made it's home in his town.

He should be spending valuable time with his sister and helping her with her homework.

Instead his head rested over his chest and he gazed at stars that he saw no meaning in.

They were just stars. Why did so many people derive such meaning in them? He'd spent enough of his short life in the sky to know the entirety of it was over-rated.

Who cared about stars?

Who cared about soul mates?

Kenny hadn't, not really, it had never really struck home for him. He'd seen the mark when it developed, had it registered because it was just a normal thing to do, and moved on with his life.

He'd never really spared a moment to think about his fated partner.

It was some unspoken assumption that of course whoever he was meant for would be someone that he found attractive. Someone that he found enjoyable. Someone he wanted to spend his life with.

Kyle Broflovski had a soul mate.

That thought alone was oddly sobering and Kenny could barely consider why when the looming aspect of the others identity was apparently abundantly clear to both of his friends.

Kyle and Cartman.

He... should be okay with that. Aside from his confidence that it was surely another sign of the apocalypse there was no logical reason he shouldn't be okay with that.

Sure, Kyle deserved better. Sure, Cartman deserved... no one? Was no one an available answer?

Sure, it definitely wasn't a match he would have made up in heaven but he'd always just assumed that cupids or whatnot knew what they were doing when they set these pairs up.

He should be able to shrug this away as something he just didn't get because he didn't have that holier-than-thou perspective.

Kyle had a soul mate and chances were, if Kenny's own experience tangling with fate was any indicator, that no matter how anyone struggled on the matter it was inevitable. Some overbearing force had arranged the two of them to love one another and that was it.

Kyle who looked at him with sort of admiration when he donned his cape.

Kyle who's inner fire was so fierce that the mere concept of being told something like futility had fueled him into absolute determination that was like looking at the sun. Blinding and beautiful.

Kyle who made fun of him for failing math but resented him for excelling in linguistics.

Kyle who never held his tongue until a moment too late.

Kyle who cried when he died.

Kyle who gave him a lollipop last week with some sarcastic comment about shutting his face.

Kyle who played basketball like it was a warzone and never gave up until the final buzzer.

Kyle who was fire and passion and intelligent and competitive and  _ Kyle _ .

"Oh, shit."

The constellation above twinkled mockingly, the words he didn't understand until this moment worming their way into certainty.

"Oh  _ fuck _ ."

He was completely screwed.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Kyle stared at the red flesh he’d spent hours upon hours scrubbing at.

The mark remained, bright as day and burning a hole in his future that couldn’t be stopped.

Could it?

It could. He was still resentful of Mysterion’s consignment to fate.

Of  _ all _ people he would think that an actual superhero would think fate was a shitty concept.

The mark glared at him dauntingly and he swallowed some of his rage at the sight of it.

Of all the horrible, disgusting, and unforgivable things Cartman had down to him in his life, this was the worst. He didn’t  _ care _ that the shit-head had no control over it either. He was  _ alive _ and fuck, if he hadn’t been such a complete literal  _ nazi _ Kyle wouldn’t be stuck with this horrific symbol forever maring his chest.

His eyes darted, not for first time, to the razor his dad used to keep his face smooth.

How deep would he have to cut to carve it out? If he even just scarred up the tissue around it enough, would it become unrecognizable?

He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. He knew that shouldn’t be an option on the table. At the very least, he should make a serious attempt on Cartman’s life before resorting to damaging his own body like that.

Maybe, if he was lucky, when he killed the shit out of the bastard the mark would just fade away on its own. Maybe it could be redirected.

He narrowed his eyes at his reflection. There were a million uncertainties and too many aspects to factor in but there was at least  _ one _ thing he was sure of.

“Soul mates are fucking bullshit.”

He swept away from the upsetting vision of his own body. Tomorrow would be a new day. Go to school early, figure out an effective way to kill Cartman, and then go to sleep knowing the world was a better place.

\--

School shutdowns were something that most would consider within the category of unpleasant.

Eric would definitely consider them inconvenient. All he wanted to do was kill his soulmate, get some tattoo remover, and sleep this all off like a bad hangover. It would be simple, despite Kyle’s penchant for surviving despite all odds, and no one would ever have to know what a horrible mistake God had made by assigning this particular pair.

If fate wanted him to fall in love with  _ Kahl _ he would ensure that the noncorporeal construct of pre-determination suffered for it’s foolishness.

When men with guns entered the auditorium, interrupting PC Principal's ‘stay calm’ speech he’d actually felt just a sprig of hope bloom in his soul.

Ideally, the men would open fire, cleanly braining Kyle in the front row, and Eric could use Clyde as a meatshield before turning the situation around. Or making a hasty escape. Whicher appealed to him more in the moment.

When the men demanded that every student remove their shirt, that’s where Eric drew the line.

“Oh  _ hell _ no, I am  _ not _ removing my shirt so some pervy middle-aged freak can get off on my hot bod!”

He could hear a despairing “oh god damnit” from the front and mentally flipped Stan off.

Just let Kyle and Stan think what they--why was Kyle standing?

“Yeah! You have no right!”

_ “Kyle, he has a gun, I don’t think he needs a right.” _ Stan’s strained whisper could barely be heard.

Well, this might just work out after all. Kyle would get himself shot and that would be the end.

So long,  _ Kahl _ , hope hells fires aren’t too hot.

“Wait!”

Oh,  _ godddamnit Kinny _ !

Was it too much to ask for random gunman to kill his soulmate so he didn't have to without some stupid orange asshole getting in the way?!

God damn it he really should have killed Kenny.

Wait, Eric paused his condemnation, Kenny didn’t normally stick his neck out in situations like these. In fact, one could say he normally disappeared in the fray. Poor and cowardly most just be synonymous.

So what the fuck was he doing now?

“Why do you want us to remove our shirts?”

The muzzle of a gun was pressed to Kenny’s head, Leslie could be heard chatting with someone less than quietly in the foreground, Kyle looked just as surprised as he was.

Kenny had his hood down and the expression on his face spoke volumes. Eric read them all instantly. The idiot hadn’t expected the entire auditorium to fall silent and pay him rapt attention and now he’d forgotten his future words.

Still, there was an uneasy calm to his stature. Eric snorted, it’s not like Kenny had anything to fear from death after all.

“We don’t have to answer a snot nosed brat like you!” the man gestured somewhere behind him, “Now, the next kid to refuse to remove their shirt gets shot! Hurry up!”

Most were already in the motions. Eric would rather die. Kyle was being prodded.

Kenny--

“Do it. Fucking shoot me. Unless you’re too much of a fucking pussy!”

Clearly the gunman hadn’t expected this kind of aggression, he lowered his voice but Eric was creeping the around to get closer, he could use this to kill his nemesis yet, “Look, kid, I don’t want to shoot you. Just remove your stupid shirt.”

“No.”

No one was paying Kyle much attention anymore. Eric finally realized the entire thing was just a stupid diversion. No one would pay attention to Kyle’s refusal if Kenny refused harder.

Why was McCormick such a killjoy idiot?

“Remove your fucking shirt or I shoot you in the head, kid! There’s no coming back from that.”

Eric snorted, jokes on them.

“Make me.” Kenny challenged. A second later it was a scuffle, one of the other gunmen coming up behind Kenny and the yowl as Kenny bit one of them. Eric always thought it was funny how people just stood and watched in moments like these, the short time before Kenny was sure to die.

The scuffle did dislodge the parka and rip the boys shirt. Cartman couldn’t see whatever angle it was ripped but he could hear the sound.

There was a gasp.

“ _ Mysterion _ !” barely whispered horror.

Motherfucker.

The shot rang out across the gym. No one screamed.

Kenny’s body slumped to the ground.

The gunman hurried to escape but Eric stopped paying them any mind.

“They killed Kenny!”

Stan’s voice. Predictable and regular.

“You  _ bastards _ !”

Maybe Kyle had just been holding in too much aggression from the whole ordeal. Maybe Kyle was just as stressed over revealing his mark as Eric was.

But the normally casual accusing insult was spoken with a gutteral rage and only a moment later Kyle had tackled one of the retreating men to the ground.

Like a riot had been summoned, the rest of the student body joined in, it was strange how willing his peers were to resort to extreme violence, so long as they weren’t the initial instigator.

Eric slipped away in the confusion. Whether or not the revolution of students resulted in freedom or a massacre wasn’t any of his business.

He was far more concerned with the new information allowed to him by this instance.

“Fucking Kenny is going to regret this.”

\--

His eyes were the sky.

Sometimes blue of the midday, bright with life and kindness.

Sometimes purple of the sunset, mysterious and guarded.

Sometimes the bright orange of sunrise, reflecting the fires burning away at his flesh. Flames licking the skin from his bone.

Wait, what was that last one.

"Goodbye, you guys."

"Don't go--" Kyle jolted awake, his body moving seemingly against its will like a crash to the ground, his organs barely catching up that there wasn't a fall.

That was an unpleasant nightmare to repeat.

Kyle curled in on himself. How many times would he dream of Kenny dying?

\--

Eric clicked his tongue as Kenny dodged another carefully planted landmine, as if he had foreknowledge of their locations.

Had he grown predictable? This was starting to seriously grate on his nerves. He couldn’t kill Kyle, fine, Kyle was a hard to kill bastard with a truly insidious tendency to defeat obstacles. He’d accepted that his first few ‘murder Kyle’ plans were doomed to fail.

_ Kenny _ on the other hand should be so hilariously easy to kill that he’d just have to sit back and wait for a giant lobster to just straight up eat the bastard or something equally bizarre.

He was starting to wonder if he’d just started forgetting Kenny’s deaths like the rest of this stupid town. He shrugged that option away though, he could very clearly see the resilient bastard avoiding all death traps with a fucking  _ skip _ to his step.

Fucking Mysterion.

Of fucking course Kenny had been Mysterion. That little fucker. Eric had no idea why he hadn’t seen it before.

Aside from the current interference in Kyle’s assassination, Mysterion had a  _ habit _ of getting his way.

“You stupid poor cowardly fuck.” Eric growled to himself, loading a crossbow and aiming, “Can’t face me directly so you hate behind a gay ass mask.”

Kenny actually flipped off his perch on top of the old Sodasopa after the bolt missed, “Suck my dick, Cartman!”

“You fucking wish, poor boy!” Eric yelled back, searching his arsenal for the next lethal weapon.

What a shitty bastard. Couldn’t Kenny just  _ get _ that Eric’s ass was starting to chafe on this cheap lawn chair?

“Hurry up and die!” Eric called when he’d retrieved the shurikan from the box.

It shouldn’t even  _ mean _ anything to Kenny. Why was the poor bastard making this so fucking hard? Cartman just wanted the satisfaction of killing the idiot  _ once _ for his insolence. Why couldn’t Kenny just be a pal? This is exactly why he started hanging out with Butters more.  _ Butters _ would be a good friend and die for his crimes.

“Eat my whole ass!” Kenny returned, ducking behind some tires.

\--

Watching two of your closest friends having a little chit-chat usually shouldn’t warrant any concern. Kyle was at least 90% sure that caring about whether or not your friends talked to one another was a bit strange.

Maybe it was David’s overly exaggerated reactions to whatever Kenny was spelling out. Or asking as a favor? That was definitely Kenny’s ‘do a guy a favor’ pose.

“Dude, I think if you clutch your textbook any tighter it’s going to actually snap in half.” Stan’s voice entered the fray and Kyle shot him a sharp look.

“I’m not clutching anything!”

Stan held up his hands in a feeble defense, “ _ Okay _ , little harsh there, what’s got your panties in a bunch?”

“I don’t wear panties!” Kyle shot back, as though this was the point being argued. His brain caught up to the not-conversation at hand and finally, some of the tension that was slowly snapping the spine of AP Biology was released, “I--you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, don’t worry about it, dude.” Stan had yet to lower his hands, hurricane Kyle could still go off. “But seriously, you’ve been glaring at David for a solid five minutes. I counted.”

Kyle raised an eyebrow. It was a skill he had honed specifically for calling Stan out on his exaggerations.

“Okay,  _ fine _ , I saw you sending death waves, checked my phone for a few minutes, and when I looked up you were still at it so I figured maybe it was serious.”

Ah, the power of a best friend to ignore distress. Kyle appreciated it. He would have appreciated it more if Stan had continued down that route.

“It’s nothing. I just thought it was weird that Kenny and David were talking is all.”

Stan glanced at the pair across the hall. David looked like he was reluctantly conceding to whatever ludicrous request was being thrust upon him. “Uh, is it? They talk, don’t they?”

“Do they?” Kyle asked in return, “When’s the last time you saw them talking?”

“Yesterday, lunch table.”

Kyle rolled his eyes, “ _ Not _ in a group setting.”

Stan shrugged and Kyle  _ could _ have cheered over the small victory except it was dawning on him as swiftly as it was dawning on Stan how weird he was being about this.

Stan started speaking warily, “I mean, it’s not actually a biggie if they get closer.”

There was  _ something _ about that phrasing. Kyle wouldn’t be able to explain it if he was asked.

The poor volume of AP Bio snapped in half under the pressure.

Stan didn’t even have time to comment on it or retreat. Kyle turned tail instead.

“I’m going home!” he snarled back and left his best friend alone to wonder what had Kyle acting insane that wasn’t Cartman.

\--

Among the things in her life that Wendy Testaburger expected to factor into her near future, none of which included the situation she currently found herself in.

Perhaps it was a twisted sort of karma, she was well aware that she was an imperfect person even though she strived to be a good one.

She'd made mistakes and she'd hurt people.

None of these things really seemed to make this sort of karmic revenge fair though. It wasn't fair. How could it possibly be fair.

She wouldn't wish a date with Eric Cartman on even her worst enemy.

It didn't make it better that Cartman wanted no part of it either. It made it worse. He was petulant and bratty, blaming her for the sky being blue and birds taking flight, and determined to make it as difficult as possible for her to hold her extremely strained temper.

“Could you please pass the salt,” she swallowed, with some difficulty, the vomit that wanted to rise up, “Eric?”

“Oh, you'd like that, wouldn't you?” He sneered, lifting the shaker tauntingly for a moment before obediently passing it over, “God, you're useless.”

The pain promised in Eric Cartman’s future was going to be crippling. Wendy grit her teeth and settled the violence pumping through veins with daydreams of tearing out his kidney and feeding it to him.

Neither of them wanted to be here with the other.

Neither of them had much of a choice.

If the shambled together cover was broken at this time there was a low chance of survival. She still contemplated blowing it though, just for the opportunity to use him as a meatshield. It would be a better death than he deserved.

The table just to their left, full conspicuously with suspicious looking criminals-types, were not  _ currently _ paying her table any mind. She would very much like to keep it that way, especially with consideration to the rifle she could barely see crammed under their table.

She forcefully dragged her eyes away from the danger and back to other nightmare in the restaurant.

“So, dear, what made you choose this restaurant for our date night?”

Read: What the fuck are you doing here, Cartman.

“I heard you were itching to go so I just had to.”

Read: Mind your own fucking business, Testaburger.

The gunman in nextdoor were still eyeing the tables around with occasional suspicion. It wouldn’t have been so awful if Cartman hadn’t made a scene as soon as he’d arrived about getting a table. When the waitress had patiently explained it was couples only tonight, Wendy had been unlucky enough to be in eyeshot of the bastard.

And she would have made a scene of it but she was here on her own business.

It was pure luck that no one had died in the school invasion three days ago but she’d recognized one of the gunman from the car she hadn’t investigated. The suspicious one that kept circling the block.

It was then that she realized that among those arrested, the driver hadn’t been there.

It had taken her three fucking days to find out the guy frequented this restaurant. She couldn’t afford to have attract unwarranted attention because of  _ stupid _ Cartman.

Especially considering how likely it was that the rifle wasn’t the only weapon at their table.

Cartman sneered at her, “Don’t we make a great couple?”

She’d almost wonder if it was a sincere question if not for the delighted sadistic twinkle in his eyes. He wanted to humiliate her while he could.

Bastard.

She wouldn’t be surprised if he had some form of recording device just so he could relive the moment he’d forced her to say something mortifying. That would be just his style.

The gun was more concerning though so she swallowed acid she’d like to fling into his eyes.

“Of course, after all you offered to pay for everything. Like a real gentlemen.” she smiled darkly at his glare, “Just my type.”

“I thought you were all about equality between men and women.” he shot back, clearly he’d been planning to stick her with the bill of his rather expensive meal.

She only let her smile grow, “Obviously. And since I got our last date, it’s your turn,  _ dear _ .”

There was a moment where she was half convinced that Cartman was going to break cover, gunman be damned. She’d even gone so far as to calculate how long it would take her to duck behind his lardass before fire broke out.

Instead he stowed it, angrily chewing on his food.

This was getting to be too much. She needed to call the police and let them know accomplices from the school hostage situation were here.

“I’m just going to powder my nose.” Wendy didn’t even bother to smile, “Be back soon.”

“Oh no you don’t--”

She ducked away, smiling winngingly at the waiter and pointedly not looking at the table full of dangerous looking men.

In a restaurant full of couples, just one table with five men glaring at the patrons and talking secretively. She hated how cartoonishly villainous they were.

It made it all the more upsetting that she hadn’t put a stop to them before they’d attacked her school.

The attack made no sense though. The more she thought about it, the less it added up. They gathered all the students and wanted them to take off their shirts. Creepy, but not inherently sexual. What could they possibly gain from a room full of shirtless teens?

The bathroom was thankfully empty and Wendy took the moment to breathe. It was so incredibly stuffy in there, crooks and couples and  _ Cartman _ .

Why was Cartman here, anyway? She’d like to think the fatass was just attached to the food here but she’d caught him eyeing the mystery gunman a few times as well. He was just as invested as she was.

But Cartman was never invested in something for good purposes.

She was here to protect her school, he could be here for anything as dumb as missing cats or as diabolical as causing a nuclear winter. There was really no telling with Cartman.

The door to the bathroom opened and Wendy was about to leave before doing a double take.

“ _ Kenny _ ?”

It was definitely the boy. Head to toe, dolled up like a girl, but without a doubt that was Kenny McCormick.

Kenny smiled, speaking just a touch too femininely, “Hey, Wendy. What brings you here?”

Had  _ everyone  _ flocked to this shitty italian restaurant? Was it a coincidence?

“What’s with the heels?” she figured it was the safest way of asking. Kenny was normally chill but she didn’t talk to him much.

“Oh,” Kenny looked around as if to check for prying ears before leaning in to whisper, “I’m David’s beard tonight.”

Wendy digested this.

“Wait. David’s out. And isn’t he going out with someone?”

“Okay, maybe he’s my beard.”

She tried to take this on as well.

“Kenny. You’ve been out bi genderfluid since forever.”

“Wendy, why exactly do you have to actually pay attention to your classmates?” Kenny despaired, “Point is, me and David are on a fake date.”

She took that in.

“Can we please trade?”

“What?”

“I’m stuck out there wit Cartman. David sounds like such a relief, oh my god, and you used to be pretty close to Cartman, right?”

Kenny, to his credit, was holding in his laughter.  _ Barely _ but still holding it in.

“You’re on a date with  _ Cartman _ ?”

“ _ Fake  _ date, Kenny. Please remember the fake part.”

“Why are you on a fake date with Cartman?”

“Why are you on a fake date with David?”

“Touche.” Kenny conceded. “And no, we can’t trade, Cartman’s currently trying to kill me.”

“Wait, what,  _ why _ ?” Wendy felt she should know better than to ask with this lot but she couldn’t help it. God, Stan’s friends were an actual nightmare.

“Oh, he found out I helped stop him from killing Kyle.”

Wendy took a moment, eyes heavenward, and rubbed her temples, before finally decided that whatever reason Kyle and Cartman were trying to murder each other this time was too obnoxious to ask about.

Kenny’s oddly dodgy behavior on the other hand… “You’re here about the gunman too, aren’t you?”

It couldn’t be a coincidence. Kenny had never struck her as the the type to stick his nose out like this but perhaps the whole of Stan’s little group was up to something. Kenny was a team player. Or at least, she was under that general impression.

Huh. come to think of it, she really didn’t know Kenny that well.

“What gunman?”

It was so carefully blank and clueless. It didn’t fit the flow of the conversation. It was also impressively well said.

Maybe there was more to Kenny that she hadn’t seen.

“Don’t bullshit me, McCormick. I just spent half my evening with Cartman,. I’m seriously not in the mood.”

He sighed, “Look, it’s personal. You should probably clear out though. It might get skeevy.” gunshots rang from the restaurant behind them, “Yeah. Like that.”

Wendy didn’t have a moment to argue. She was suddenly shoved into a stall and by the time she’d gathered herself to storm her way out, she tripped on a discarded dress.

She took a bit to digest that as well.

Did McCormick just throw her into a bathroom stall, get naked, and run out into a room ringing with gunshots?

A gasp from the other room could be heard, accompanied by the distinct of someone being slammed through a table,  _ “Mysterion!” _

And it clicked.

“Holyshit.”

Wendy steadied herself and contemplated the pros and cons of getting involved in the chaos out there.

The cons won out because here she could call the police like she’d originally planned.

\--

It felt like the world was shaking under his feet.

Stan walked glumly home. Everyone seemed to be up in arms about something or another lately. Kyle was railing against the concept of soul mates like they had personally offended him and was attempting to murder Cartman in his spare time. Cartman had all but disappeared from public view, showing up here and there to cause trouble and clearly up in arms about something. Kenny was being terminally unreliable to get ahold of. Butters was… well, Butters was probably available.

Stan kicked a rock in his path.

Butters was always available to hang out, pending being grounded, and always positive.

Maybe Stan didn’t want to be around someone positive. Maybe he wanted to pout about how stupid the world is. Write bad poetry and drink way too much alcohol.

Everyone had something they were passionate about or sucked up in and he just wanted to be sucked up in Wendy’s pace.

And the reminder on his chest of all their problems wasn’t helping.

His parents were soulmates and they never divorced because of it. No matter how far Randy pushed, no matter how far his mother strained, it always came down to symbols on their chests and that was  _ that _ .

Like it was somehow the correct answer.

In Wendy’s eyes he saw that there were no correct answers.

No easy solutions and no forcing the issue. It made him think of his mother's tight smiles and his fathers continued reach for the bottle.

Suddenly a drink seemed less appealing.

He looked up and he could have cursed.

He didn’t want to be cheered up. He didn’t want a ray of positivity to ruin his moody gloom. He didn’t want to feel better so soon after having his heart ripped apart on display.

Yet, his treacherous legs had brought him to stand outside the Stotch residence. On cue, Butters leaned out his window, “Why, heya Stan! What brings you here?”

He contemplated walking away. He contemplated telling Butters to take his positive outlook on life and shove it. He contemplated crying.

He kicked another stone petulantly instead.

“Huh.” Butters sounded concerned but Stan didn’t look up to see the expression, “Hold on a sec, I’m not grounded so I’ll be outside in a moment.”

There was a rustle, the window closed, and Stan could just barely see the pitter-patter of feet from inside the household. Despite himself he found himself half heartened by the sound. Someone, no matter how lame, cared to come running when he looked upset. That wasn’t what he was used to.

Kyle’s version of ‘cheer up’ was quite literally just that. A simple command to stop being sad.

Wendy got so wrapped up in other matters it was hard to tell if she could see him at all.

Kenny and Cartman never seemed to give two flips when he withdrew emotionally.

But here Butters was running downstairs because his good pal kicked a stone like a sulky toddler.

Damnit. He didn’t want to be cheered up.

He was feeling bereft and he was going to properly and fully explore the emotion within him before moving on.

The front door opened and Butters rushed over with a bundle in his hands.

Stan didn’t know what he expected.

But he was sat gently on the curb and there was a little throw pillow that Butters put underneath him before a blanket was wrapped over both of their shoulders. In the final stages, Butters placed a tissue box on the street just in front of them and pat Stan’s back comfortingly.

Then, without any ceremony or questioning at all, Stan burst into tears.

“--sh--she said we just don’t  _ work _ .” he sobbed, already grabbing a handful of tissues while Butters made comforting sounds, “I don’t know how I can do better, I thought I  _ was _ doing better--how do I explain to her---should I even explain to her anymore? What’s the point? What if she’s  _ right _ ?”

She is right. His heart knew. But the emotions it held within still didn’t want to let go. Accept. Move on.

He couldn’t.

It hurt too much.

“Why does it  _ hurt _ so much?”

“It’s okay, Stan. I know. It’s just gotta hurt a bit before it gets better. I’m sure she’ll come around.”

Stan hid his face in his knees, “I don’t know if I  _ want _ her to come around.”

The soothing pat on his back stopped, “Oh.” Butters said, somehow sounding a bit shifty, “Really?”

He retracted his hand like he was guilty of a crime.

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” Butters babbled, “I mean, I know you love her an awful lot. Say a thing like that and someone might get ideas.”

Stan watched in complete puzzlemen as Butters edged away from him, eyes anywhere else. He frowned, “Did you want me to get back together with her?”

“No!” Butters spoke too quickly and covered his mouth with his hands before fiddling with them nervously in his lap, “I mean--I support whatever decision you make, I just--I want you to be happy.” he said the last part firmly and Stan believed it.

Something unusual swelled in his heart but he quelled it, coughing awkwardly.

“Thanks.”

How ridiculous they must look. Full pity party on the curb, surrounded by used tissues and awkwardly looking anywhere but each other.

“You seemed pretty ready for me.” Stan commented mildly.

Butters shrugged, “Word got around. I --uh, figured I ought to be prepared. Just in case.”

That was sweet. Thoughtful. Stan frowned at the ground.

“Hey, Butters?”

“Hm?”

“Whos’ your soulmate?”

The boy shifted, if he seemed uncomfortable before he was now somewhere in the stages of edgy, “I… I don’t know. Probably someone nice, I’m sure.”

Butters looked at his hands with a lost look and Stan felt like there were words unspoken.

“But?” he pressed.

Butters smiled wryly and it was an odd expression on the usually sunshiney face, “Well, golly, I guess you could say I know it’s not who I’m hoping it is.” he shrugged, a weak and defeated gesture, “It ain’t fair to whoever’s out there waitin’ for me to sweep ‘em of their feet, ya know? Getting all caught up in an emotion with someone else. Why, it’s probably cheating.”

Stan thought about this. The simple yet caring way Butters prioritized the happiness of a stranger over his own.

The current tirade Kyle was railing against soulmates over.

The sad smile on Wendy’s face.

He considered it and clenched his fist, eyes ahead.

“Wendy is my soulmate, you know.” Stan said simply. Butters breath hitched but Stan didn’t look over, “I was over the moon when I found out.”

“Th-that’s great.”

“But you know, Butters?”

“What?”

Some people are moved with the tides of reality and some people bend it to their will. People that have the power and strength to shape the world around them.

“I think… maybe the whole ‘soulmate’ thing is stupid.”

Stanley Marsh was the sort of boy that could move the stars.

\--

The Italian restaurant had been a disaster.

Kenny groaned into his pillow and tried not to feel the bruises.

He’d just been there on recon. It shouldn’t have resulted in a gunfight. What had Cartman  _ done _ in there to agitate them so much? Okay. That was a dumb question.

Still. He’d only been talking to Wendy in the bathroom for maybe five minutes before all hell broke loose outside. His person of interest had escaped in the chaos to boot.

At least the cops had arrived quickly. It helped minimize the damages and gave him an opening to retreat promptly.

His pillow offered no comfort after the failure. He wished it would.

He’d lost his favorite dress in the chaos too.

The door to his room creaked open.

“Kenny?”

“Mmmgop.” he replied to his precious little sister. He didn’t bother with words.

“Some men are at the door for you.”

He shot up in bed, earlier fatigue forgotten in the immediate attention this issue required, “What men?”

His heart raced. Could he change into Mysterion? Should he? Were they just outdated door-to-door salesmen that arrived in the dead of night or…?

“I don’t know,” Karen murmured uncertainly, “Kevin’s with them now.”

Kenny’s heart leapt to his throat and he decided there was absolutely no time to dilly-dally.

He was on his feet instantly, pulling Karen into the room, “Stay in here. If anyone comes in, go out the crawl space behind my closet. Don’t turn around.”

She nodded, alarmed but obedient. He didn’t waste a moment longer and entered the living room.

There they were.

He schooled his expression for calm. There were definitely some of the men from the restaurant. Had they followed him home? Kevin was on the couch looking uneasy.

“Kevin.” Kenny said as calmly as he could manage, “Go to my room.”

A man raised a hand to stop Kevin from rising. There was something distinctly sinister about the man.

Ah.

If life is like a comic book, than the unmasking is when the powerful become powerless. Kenny took in the scene.

Three men. All armed, from their posture they were muscle, from the way they carried their weight, more weapons were hidden.

They weren’t going to let him go. Or Kevin. Or Karen.

He stepped forward, momentarily pleased that the confidence in the movement caused the men to backup an inch.

“I take it you guys want to talk to me?” he didn’t wait for an answer. “Let’s talk. Leave my siblings out of this.”

Kevin opened his mouth to argue, Kenny shot him a severe look. It worked.

He half wished his dad would show up with the shotgun but his parents were probably passed out judging by the silence in the house.. Nothing short of a fire would get them up.

One man, a leader-type, stepped forward, “ _ We’ll _ decide who to involve. You don’t get to make anymore decisions,  _ Mysterion _ .”

Kenny grit his teeth and ignored the gasp that sounded from Kevin.

Great.

He could take one bullet for Kevin but they had more than one bullet and he had more than one sibling.

He took another step forward. One of the men standing back pulled out his gun nervously.

He noticed the tremor. He’d beaten these punks up previously.

Fine.

He schooled his voice into a low growl. It had the desired effect.

“You know what? You guys do make the decisions. You can decide between two choices. You take me and me alone, and I don’t fight back. Or, you risk what might happen to you if you hurt my brother.”

He nodded towards the leader, “He goes to sit in my room with my sister. Now.”

The man did some mental math. It was the math Kenny had been banking on.

Simple math from a simple goon. With the siblings hiding in a bedroom they could just do a doublecross after securing Mysterion. Simple.

After all, there was no way they were letting witnesses that had seen their faces live.

He nodded.

Kenny gestured for Kevin to go. The older boy stood hurriedly and then, a jerky hesitation.

“Kenny?”

His voice was smaller than in normally was. Kenny tried to smile comfortingly. “Don’t worry, Kev. I’ll be fine.”

Maybe his brother read the lie. He didn't move.

Kenny grit his teeth, “Take care of Karen.”

He was telling his brother to make an impossible decision.

One siblings life over the other.

He wasn’t asking though. He looked into his brothers eyes with determination, this wasn’t a request. This was a command.

Kevin’s fists clenched and he looked away, walking stiffly forward.

Just as he was passing, Kenny spoke as low as he could, “Don’t stay. They’ll kill you both.”

A jerky nod was the only response he received and he returned his attention to the home invaders.

He was lucky.

They were still playing at being goons in a comic book.

Logically they should have just come in to kill everyone. But no, they had to kidnap him so some idiotic boss could gloat.

The third man that had been silent thus far stepped forward with some rope and began to tie his wrists.

Began.

Kenny wasn’t going to make this easy.

As soon as the heavy rope was wrapped around his wrists he slammed his hands upwards, catching the man in the chin with wrists, ropes, and fists.

“Son of a--”

Another raised a gun.

It wasn’t pointed at Kenny.

The closed door to his bedroom.

He closed his eyes.

Ideally, Karen and Kevin listened. Ideally, neither of them was waited with baited breath on the other side with their ears cupped against the door.

Kenny knew he didn’t live in an ideal world. He wouldn’t risk their lives on something so unpredictable.

He raised his hands in surrender.

“Okay. I won’t fight.”

His world was always moving to the whims of fate. A death here, a defeat there. He was in the hands of a cruel twist of reality and there was no escaping.

He wondered if he’d respond differently with Kyle’s fire. Cartman’s determination. Stan’s impossible luck.

He allowed himself to be hassled from the house, watching as predictably one of the men was sent back in to deal with his siblings.

He kicked up the appropriate amount of fuss. Taking out some of the agonizing anxiety of it on the nervous mans nose.

A rather nasty break. He was proud of that.

“They’re gone!”

He breathed easier.

“Let’s get out of here, they could have called the cops.”

No shit, genius. Kenny rolled his eyes.

And that was the thing he did before he saw black spots. Of course they’d knock him out.

Fate was a bitchass ho.

\--

Eric was going to kill Kenny. For sure this time.  _ Especially _ after the restaurant.

Mysterion had been an agitation in his life for ages now. And all this time he had just been some poor asshole that couldn’t die?

Oh, he was going to make Kenny  _ pay _ .

Trouble was first he had to  _ find _ McCormick and the boy could be surprisingly slippery when he wanted to. It only took one attempt on his life before Kenny had all but blipped out of sight.

That is until Mysterion showed up at the stupid italian restaurant and got in the way of  _ him _ saving the day. If that asshole hadn’t shown up, Eric would have put an end to those stupid fart-nuggets for good. Sure, there would have been a few casualties, but poor boy needed to see the bigger picture!

That was the last straw though. He was going straight to Kenny’s house and killing the bastard in his sleep if he had to!

Trouble is he arrived just in time to see the same fuckers from the restaurant knock Kenny out and drag him into suspicious van.

“ _ ‘EY _ !” Eric cried petulantly. “ _ I’m _ going to kill him dammit!”

After all, in his reality the world bent to his will and his will alone.

\--

Once upon a time when they used to play pretend, having secret tunnels and hidden paths made a lot of sense. It was cool. It was interesting. When Kenny wanted one of the hidden tunnels to lead into Kyle’s backyard, he’d thought it would be cool.

And it was cool. It made sense. Kenny lived close so it was actually feasible to do.

Just, outdated and old, and Kyle didn’t see the purpose in it existing anymore.

He didn't’ think about it much though, not until he woke up to the sound of someone banging on the kitchen door. He could hear his family waking up but he decided to head down first. If it was the kitchen door, someone was knocking from the back so it was extremely likely to be one of his asshole friends.

He’d been expecting Kenny or Stan. Maybe Cartman on another attempt on his life, though his focus seemed to have shifted to something else after the school lock-down.

He wasn’t expecting the other McCormick siblings.

He opened the door hurriedly, letting them rush in, his mother was making her way into the kitchen but he couldn’t even pay attention through the amount of words coming out of the panicked siblings.

“You have to call the police!”

“They took Kenny!”

“They had guns!”

“Our parents are still in there!”

Karen started to cry and Kyle tried to digest the information fast enough to formulate a response, “Wait, who took Kenny?”

Kevin burst, “I don’t know! They had guns and the--they called him Mysterion!”

Kyle heard his mother gasp and held his own surprise.

“We have to call the police!” he appreciated his mother's priorities sometimes, she was already picking up the phone.

Alarm filled Karen’s face, “Wait! Do-don’t tell them about Kenny!”

That was more of a confirmation that Kyle thought he could handle at the moment.

More than any revelations about identity his emotions finally caught up to the key piece of information.

“Shit--where did they take him?”

Kenny was taken. Shit.

His dream returned to him, vividly, red and painful. Was it a premonition? He didn’t want to think like that. Ike entered the room followed by his father and he left them to comfort the McCormick siblings.

Kyle had other priorities.

Shit.

Who had taken Kenny?

He wracked his brain to think of who Mysterion had taken down lately, enemies in news articles, who had the well-known mysterious vigilante pissed off enough that Kenny was taking the fall for it?

He booted up his computer in a rush, but his mind strayed oddly to the school shut-down.

They’d been looking for something. Or someone.

He reached for his soulmate mark.

What if they’d seen Mysterions.

What if they were looking for him.

What if Kenny really was Mysterion?

He typed his password with more vim than strictly necessary and immediately searched for the information he’d need.

He wasn’t the sort to stop for anyone or to let anyone decide his course of action.

He wasn’t one to sit back and let shit happen.

The world  _ would _ bend to his will or it would feel his wrath.

The staccato of his panicked heart was comforted by this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im actually p disappointed with this chapter ngl >x<;;; i p much finished it a week ago but there were just parts that /bugged/ me. I think I solved some of the problems but idek how much XD;;;;; geh, w/e  
> hopefully this wasn't too boring my dudes XD

**Author's Note:**

> im so sorry XD initially i was planning to write you something amazing and stuff and then when i was brainstorming soul mate au stuff this happened XD forgiveme  
>  ~~I BLAME THIS ENTIRELY ON THE STUPID DONALD DUCK VID I SENT YOU, IT INFLUENCED EVERY FREKAING MOVE I MADE~~


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